Multiple Orgasms
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Isobel becomes involved in a disagreement between Dr. Clarkson and Lord Merton and hilarious consequences ensue.


**Prompt: "Isobel unwittingly asks about a certain medical treatment in casual conversation, and Richard upstages the great Lord Merton who is also interested in medicine. If you don't feel like doing research, don't worry about it lol." Ok, so I strayed from this, but I hope you like it.**

**Contextual information; Ramsay MacDonald looked so like Richard Clarkson it's almost beyond belief, and he was also Scottish (this got me through A level history). **

Isobel was quite thoroughly bored. She wasn't entirely sure what she was doing here- Cousin Violet had recently taken a very great liking to inviting exactly the same crowd around whenever she gave dinner or tea. Only this time was a little different; Violet and Lady Shackleton sat in a corner discussing some old mutual acquaintance and Lord Merton and Dr. Clarkson, rather than talking to her, as one of them almost constantly was these days- though she did draw the line at the notion that they frisked around her skirts- were conversing together. She didn't mind, the world did not revolve around her by any means, only she was dreadfully bored, and she didn't fancy talking about some old dame she'd never had the displeasure of knowing and was loathe to seem to force herself on the gentlemans' attention.

"Thank you, Spratt," she spoke quietly to the butler as he came past to refresh their cups.

She noticed he omitted Richard. Time was when he would have done the same to her, and, pointedly, she caught his eye before he could draw away too far to rectify his mistake. Richard, however, seemed not to particularly notice. He seemed quite engaged in his conversation. Well, that was good, Isobel thought, it might help him to get over his prejudice towards Lord Merton's medical leanings. It was a slightly sore point for her that full medical training had been out of reach to her as young woman, and she thought it was a bit unfair of him to wield it like weapon against his obvious dislike for Lord Merton.

But she was not to be left in her isolation for much longer.

"Don't you think we should ask Mrs Crawley?" Richard enquired of Lord Merton.

"Ask me what?" she enquired pleasantly, moving to join them.

"I doubt Mrs Crawley will want to be bothered with our idle chitchat," Lord Merton replied.

"On the contrary," Richard told him, "I've never known Mrs Crawley to want for an opinion on any subject, however idle."

She shot him a half-amused and half-murderous glance. He blinked calmly in reply and for some reason, she was hard-pressed to bite back a smirk.

"What were you talking about?" she asked him levelly.

"Lord Merton and I were discussing the differences between the sexes," he replied, always able to give a straight answer when it was required of him.

"Goodness!" she responded, "I'd hardly call that an idle subject at all." She caught the look Richard was giving her and tried not to think that she had just proved what he'd said about her opinions exactly right, "How on earth did that come up?"

"Lord Merton was asking me if I thought the election of the new government had anything to do with women being able to vote now," he replied.

"And do you?" she asked him, her own curiosity brought out by that.

"I don't see why it should," he replied, shrugging his shoulders a little, "I've never encountered any evidence that women are more given towards the Left than men are."

"Unless you give credence to the suggestion that women are simply voting Labour because they've taken a fancy to Mr MacDonald!" Isobel suggested merrily.

There was an awkward silence. She glanced at Richard's expression, then at Lord Merton's. Unless she was very much mistaken, he had made that suggestion a matter of moment's ago.

"Well," she added chirpily, hoping she hadn't embarrassed either of them, trying to be as diplomatic as possible, "I must say I think he's a very fine looking gentleman. I'm not sure that would be sufficient to win my vote, though."

She caught a glimpse of a smile on Richard's face. Dear Christ, they looked similar! She only noticed it now. Gods, Isobel, stop talking! She nearly laughed madly out loud, and somehow managed not to.

Thankfully, Richard then came to her rescue.

"Our conversation then took a more biological turn," he informed her, "And we were discussing the differences between the sexes in medical terms."

She nodded her understanding, as Lord Merton said, "I was just telling Dr. Clarkson that, beyond the obvious of course, child-bearing and so forth, I see very little grounds to say that the two are radically different."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Do you?" she asked him, surprised that he held such an opinion.

"Yes, I do," he replied, "And Dr. Clarkson proceeded to tell me how wrong he thought I was."

Isobel turned back to Richard in surprise. Had they simply exchanged minds while Spratt had been serving them tea?

"That's not to say those differences make women, or indeed men, inferior," Richard returned, "But differences are there, to be sure."

There was mileage in that, now that he had clarified himself.

"Such as?" Lord Merton asked him.

"Well, differences in physical strength," Richard began.

"And size," Isobel joined in.

"Quite, size too," Richard agreed, "Women, for one reason or another, on average, seem to live longer than men do."

"And that's in spite of giving birth too," Isobel added, "And I'm sorry, I know it's undemocratic of me, but in the present company I'm going to reserve the right to have the final say on childbirth."

"I think you've probably earned that," Richard told her.

She smiled quietly.

"And there have been studies recently to show that women can concentrate for much longer than men can."

"Surely, those things you mentioned can be explained by social factors?" Lord Merton enquired, "Frequently, women have to work much less strenuously than men have to and so they live longer and have more energy to concentrate."

Isobel sensed that Richard was rapidly growing tired of this conversation. She did not realise until a moment later, though, just how tired.

"Alright," he asked wearily, but not without a little bit of snap in his voice, "Which social factors would you say explain the female capacity for multiple orgasms?"

Isobel was fairly sure that Spratt, re-entering the room with a fresh pot of tea, very narrowly avoided dropping it, such was his apparent surprise at the end of the sentence he overheard. She herself clapped a hand to her mouth, but not in time to completely suppress the loud snort she emitted. Isobel, what's wrong with you, can you not even hear the word "orgasm" without laughing, are you nineteen? Her only excuse was that it was the last word she expected to hear round at Cousin Violet's.

Lord Merton was looking at her in some alarm.

"Mrs Crawley, are you alright?" he asked.

"Quite alright," she managed to reply. She did not manage to glance at Richard's abashed face for longer than a few seconds, the very sight of it made her want to break out into peals of laughter. Come on, Isobel, pull yourself together, "I think, if I may, I'll just take a minute."

She left the room as quickly as she could. Gods, what was happening to her. Standing in the hall, she let out a cackle. It was just the looks on both of their faces, gold couldn't buy that sort of entertainment.

"Isobel," she stopped laughing abruptly at the sound of the door opening behind her. Gods, it was Richard!

"I'm sorry if I alarmed you with my talk in there just now," he told her.

She let out another joyous laugh.

"Oh, Richard. I don't think it was me you alarmed. I at least knew such things were possible."

His eyes widened as her meaning sunk in and he let out an incredulous laugh at her boldness. His laughter set her off again too, they hooted with laughter as quietly as they could. She barely even noticed that somehow, laughing away, they had reached out to take ahold of one another's hands.

"Listen to us," she said at last, "We're like a pair of children. I don't know what's got into us."

"I'm not sure," he agreed, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

She knew she should release his other hand, but did not really want to. Without thinking, she ran her thumb over the back of his hand before she let go.

"Isobel?" he asked her a moment later.

"Yes?"

"Would you allow me to walk you home when tea is over?" he asked her.

"I would like that," she replied quickly, "You could come in too, if you wanted."

"What for?" he raised his eyebrows, "Another cup of tea?"

She blinked calmly, steeling herself a little before she walked back into the room.

"I'm sure we'll find something to occupy ourselves."

**End. **

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